


In Too Deep (Something Different//Eli's Excerpts)

by cloudsNcoffee



Series: Why Don't We [2]
Category: Why Don't We (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Boyband, Dancing, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Love, Minor Character Death, Multi, Secrets, Slow Burn, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsNcoffee/pseuds/cloudsNcoffee
Summary: 'Something Different' is told entirely from Jonah's point of viewThis is a little bit of Eli's.





	1. Something Different Chapters 1-5

**Author's Note:**

> This is not, nor do I have any plans to make it, a compete story.  
> Please read Something Different first, then come back here if you'd like to experience some of Eli's perspective.  
> <3 
> 
> (It was a very intentional decision to keep her POV out of the first work in this series,  
> but I just couldn't delete it, so)
> 
>  
> 
> There's no upload schedule on these, and I'm not sure exactly how many pieces I'll edit to publish, since I'm currently writing Hooked, and after that finishing the series with Corbyn's story will be my priority.
> 
>  
> 
> As always,  
> Unbeta-ed please be kind.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> While this was written with the public persona of the band and their team in mind, the following work is fiction.  
> I don't know them, own them, or claim to have any insight into their real lives.

**Prologue** :

The first time I saw him, he was just a kid, singing in terrible quality on YouTube.

There’d been rumors for months, whispers about what Milo and I were doing in Los Angeles, before we could even start construction on our newest studio.  
So it wasn’t exactly surprising to hear from David.  
One of my father’s oldest friends, David grew up in the music industry with him.  
My dad spent his youth writing and singing, while David learned the business, selling merchandize, then scheduling tours, and now, managing artists.  
I’d known him all my life, but that wasn’t enough for me to take the job he offered. Namely, he wanted me to create choreography for a boyband who had no training and then, to make it more complicated, tour with them after.  
David argued my experience with one of those things, and skill to do the other, made me uniquely qualified, but at first, I had very little desire to do either.

So in an effort to convince me, David sent me a list of their names, pleading, “Just look them up. They’re special, babydoll.”  
I thought I owed it to him, to at least do my research.

I still don’t know why I searched his name first, only that I did.

Jonah Marais.

There were a handful of videos, most posted on a channel he owned, a few from fans, and I clicked on one at random.

He was fine, on first impression. The video was obviously old, but in it, he was cute enough, for a teenager, with terrible posture, fluffy spiky hair and earrings. All things he’d outgrow. He was shy in front of the camera, and whoever was behind it needed to learn to quit playing with the zoom, but none of those things could hold my attention.  
Instead, it was the moment he stared directly into the lens that made me pause.  
Because that look in his eyes? I knew it intimately.

It was so familiar and so unexpected, how hungry he looked when the camera focused on his face. All force and tenacity, just lurking behind that sheepish grin.

It’s rare, and impossible to fake, to want like that.  
Not many people are capable of it, but those that are, are the easiest to work with, because they’ll do anything to accomplish their goals.

I recognized it immediately in his eyes, because I saw it everyday, reflected in mine.

So that glint alone, that tiny indication of his personality, is the sole reason I took the job.  
I didn’t even bother looking the rest of them up.  
I knew if he was there, they’d be successful.  
That type of driven has no alternative.

And I’d always been attracted to it.

 

**Magic Tricks**

**(During Chapter One)**

Jonah doesn’t vanish with the rest of his band, when I let them break for water.  
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve established they are all out of shape, full of potential, and absolutely going to hate me.

Jonah studies himself in the mirror, trying the steps I just demonstrated but putting his left where his right should go, and thinking too much.  
I’m beginning to suspect he’s always doing that.  
“Do you have younger siblings?” It’s not first thing I want to know about him, not even close, but it’s enough for this.  
“I,” He looks up from his feet, turning towards me, “Yes?”  
“How many?” I take a step into his space.

My brother went through a magic phase, when he was younger. He was fascinated by sleight of hand and card tricks, and how quickly I could pick up those illusions.  
Milo had this theory I was good at it because so much of performance is misdirection, and I’ve had a lot of practice with that.

This trick is all confidence, and works better on people I’m familiar with. It’s a gamble, trying it with Jonah, but I have this feeling it’s going to work.

“Two sisters?” He’s still confused, which works in my favor.  
I grip his shoulders, “I’ve got little brothers,” Just thinking about them makes me smile, “What don’t you miss about your sisters, Jonah?” I pull his shoulders into position.  
“The bathroom,” He answers immediately, “They always have a million products and hair in the drain. I don’t miss that, like, at all.”  
“My little brother never remembers to put his shoes away,” I push his right foot into position with my left, “I think I’ve tripped over them a hundred times,” I spin us, executing the move he kept mixing up.  
“I wish I could say he’d grow out of it, but you should see our room,” Jonah’s smile is a little embarrassed.  
“You share with Zach and Daniel, right?” I push his feet into place with mine again.  
“We’re the less OCD ones,” He nods.  
I take one hand off his shoulder, “One of my roommates in college was like that, not terrible, but not organized. Now that I’ve moved out, he’s suddenly Mr. Clean.” Milo couldn’t have told you where we kept the broom when I lived with him, now he owns gloves for bleaching the bathtub.  
“Where did you go to school?” Jonah tilts his head.  
There’s not a euphemism for my college. It’s not like Harvard, where you can claim you went to school in Boston, but I’d wager it gets about the same response, so I tend to mumble it, “Juilliard.”  
“Holy shit,” His eyebrows go up, and I drop my other hand, “The crazy talent school, Juilliard?”  
It’s my turn to nod.  
“That’s,” He mulls it over, “That’s really impressive.”  
I step away from him, motioning to his feet, “Try it again.”  
Jonah does, accomplishing the move he couldn’t before. He jumps up, when he realizes he’s done it, and that strikes me as really cute.  
I take another step back, because that’s not a thing I think very often, and not a thing I’m going to think again, even if it’s impossible not to reciprocate his smile, “There you go.”  
“Thank you,” He says, and means it, and I start to think he might trouble.

 

 

 **Do We Hate Me?**  
**(During Chapter Four, after the concert, in the parking lot before Jayden and Colton leave)**

“So, Jonah?” Colton asks, when Jayden lets go of me.  
I scrunch up my nose, and Jay laughs, “That’s my cue. Bye, Baby.”  
“Traitor,” I mutter, as he lifts a hand to catch the keys Colt tosses at him.  
“I think he’d like to run me over with that bus,” Colton steps into my space, “So?”  
“Jonah’s…” Jonah is so many things. None of which I feel like confessing to Colton.  
He cups my cheek in his palm, “Baby, that kid’s in love with you.”  
Colton’s wrong about that.  
Jonah’s doesn’t love me yet, but I'm starting to think there’s a chance that he could.  
I lean into him, because Colt still smells like original Old Spice and the hair pomade he wore in High School, because he feels like safety. I meet his eyes, “I’m sorry.”  
I’m sorry I couldn’t feel that way about you.  
I’m sorry I’m too selfish to ever let you walk about of my life.  
Colton smiles, sweet and sad and so familiar, “He makes you happy.”  
“Do we hate me?” The history between us guarantees we’ll always be a we.  
“No,” His other hand slides around my waist, “Well, maybe, a little.”  
“We’re going to be okay?”  
“Always,” Colt shakes his head, “I’m happy you’re happy.”  
I squeeze him. That’s my wish for him too.  
“I love you,” He kisses the corner of my mouth, “Don’t make it too easy on him, alright?” Colton steps back, opening his car door, “Dating you is a pain in the ass. He should know what he’s getting into.”  
“I love you back,” I laugh, pushing him towards his seat, then turn on my heels and jog to the bus.

 

I text Milo before we've even left the parking lot.

‘Your fiancé says you’re turning into Groomzilla’  
‘Also, Colt thinks Jonah’s in love with me’

‘Why do you alway bury the lead?’  
Milo texts me back instantly.  
‘And Jay is a dirty liar who is going to be celibate until our wedding’

‘All of those things are certifiably false’

‘Jayden exaggerates, he better be celibate at least for tonight ‘cause he’s six states away with your ex-boyfriend, and Colton’s pretty good at reading people?’  
Milo tries.

‘Better’

‘Do you want to discuss your issues or mine?’

‘I think yours are more pressing’  
‘He said there was meltdown about eggshells’  
‘Why didn’t you call me?’

‘And say what, mi alma?’  
‘Hi, I know you’re touring with a boyband, coordinating a renovation, and getting ordained online for me, but I’m freaking out about napkins and…’  
‘WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST MAKE US GET MARRIED AT CITY HALL’  
‘I’m not cut out for this crap.’

I smirk, even though he can’t see it.  
‘Because one of us has to do the whole big wedding thing’  
‘And you look prettier in white’

‘You’re a dirty rotten liar too’

‘I miss your face’  
‘Why did I leave New York again?’

‘Because you hate winter and, maybe,’  
‘so that kid could fall in love with you’

‘I take it back’

‘Te amo más, mi alma’

‘Yo te quiero más’  
I respond, because Milo’s my person. There’s no point in lying.

 

 

 

 **In Bed with Milo**  
**(During Chapter Five, between playing music in Corbyn’s room, and running with Jonah)**

Milo climbs into bed with me, stretching out beside me, and weaving our fingers together.  
New York is bright, even with the curtains closed, the city lighting up my hotel room just enough for me to read his features.  
It’s not necessary tonight, though. I don’t need to see him, to know there’s one thing, and only one thing on his mind.  
“I think you scare him, mi alma,” Milo whispers into the space between us on the pillow.  
“He scares me,” It’s easy to admit to, to him, in the dark.

Milo’s grandparents had called each other ‘mi alma’, and he gifted that nickname to me when we were fifteen.  
He is sometimes my sounding board, always my favorite creative partner, and occasionally both the rock and the hard place in my life.  
He understands me like no one else.

“That’s not a bad thing,” He slips his hand from mine, then squeezes my bracelet against my wrist.  
“He’s a musician.”  
“That you think that’s a problem says more about you than him.”  
“He’s going to be famous.”  
“Well, you’ve never liked boring.”  
I turn away from him, onto my back, “That’s not fair, ‘Lo.”  
He puts his head on my shoulder, and his arm around my waist, “I know you love Colt, and you know I love him too, but you have never been happy just being comfortable.”  
“I don’t know how to do anything else,” I push my fingers through his curls.  
“I know,” Milo pulls on the comforter, “There’s gonna be a learning curve, baby, because you spent the years I ran around falling in love with any man who smiled at me, pretending contentment was the same as happiness.”  
“It was enough,” I defend, because I can’t not.  
“Until it wasn’t,” He argues.  
“Until it wasn’t,” I agree, because he’s right.  
We’re quiet for a minute.  
“It’s, like, Jonah just likes me,” I stumble over my words, trying to explain.  
“What’s not to like?” Milo huffs.  
“It’s,” I shake my head, searching for the right example, “He never tells me to stop asking questions.”  
“Because you have the best ones,” He replies.  
“When he catches me dancing, he always wants to see more.”  
“Because no one’s better than you.”  
“He likes running with me,” I sort of hate the fragile way that sentence leaves my mouth.  
Milo sighs, “You and Colt sure did a number on each other, didn’t you.”  
He pushes up into my space, pressing his forehead to mine, “I’m guessing Jonah understands exactly how lucky he is that you would even invite him to do that with you,” Milo’s eyes are coffee colored galaxies so familiar to me, I could navigate them blind, “Mi alma, your personality, the things you love, are not a burden,” He insists, “Just because Colt didn’t enjoy them, doesn’t mean they aren’t good.”

The subtext to his words, is the reminder that our breakup was settled on the mutual understanding that we would never understand each other.  
As much as we did, and as much as we still do, like each other, for a long time Colt thought I would outgrow the parts of myself that made would make his ideal future impossible, and I thought he would outgrow thinking that.

It doesn't feel anything like that with Jonah. “I…” I breathe out, “I like everything about him too,” I confess.  
“Of course you do,” Milo grins, turning over and pulling my arm around him, “He’s built like an underwear model, sings like a god, and looks at you like you’re perfect. Again, what’s not to like?”  
“I meant his personality,” I dimple against his bare shoulder, “His patience, his persistence, his loyalty.”  
“That’s fine too,” He lifts my hand to his mouth, “You’re fierce, usually fearless, and so, so, jaded, mi alma,” He punctuates each of those adjectives with a kiss to my knuckles, “But you’re still capable of falling in love.”  
“Is this what that feels like?” I press my freezing feet against his calves.  
“I hope so,” Milo yawns.  
“Me too,” I whisper back, because he knows my heart, and my head, and I could never pretend with him.

I don’t know if I’m as fearless as Milo believes me to be, but I know with Jonah, I want to try.

 

 

 


	2. Something Different Chapter 6

**For Better**  
**(During Chapter 6)**

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, waking me up.  
Jonah face is inches from mine, propped on his arm, where he's still asleep on the floor.  
I sleep lightly and felt the bus stop, then overheard the rest of the guys leaving to find dinner, but kept my eyes closed, because I’m strangely comfortable here, sharing this cold hard space with Jonah, and I didn’t want to move.

My phone keeps buzzing though, and there’s only two people who persist in calling me until I pick up, and they’ve both done it for hours before.

I crawl over Jonah, tiptoeing down the hallway, then check my phone.  
‘Facetime?’  
‘I need help’  
‘It’s an emergency’  
Colt texted me a dozen times, all variations on that theme, before he started nonstop dialing my number.  
I open FaceTime on my laptop, and answer on his next try.  
“Green or blue?” Colton stands shirtless, holding two button-downs in front of the camera, and not bothering to greet me.  
“Blue’s your color,” which he knows, because I’ve been saying it since middle school.  
“Right,” He leans forward, and messes with his hair, watching his reflection instead of me.  
“Is this your emergency?” I grin.  
Colton doesn’t bother trying to fabricate one, “Yeah, I’m meeting Remi for drinks downtown.”  
“It’s the second time you’ve been out with her?”  
“Third,” He smirks, buttoning up his shirt, and I laugh at his self-confidence. It's well-deserved, but I can never let him believe that.  
“So, blue?” He checks his reflection.  
“I wouldn’t have made you buy it, if it didn’t look great on you.”  
“You’re sure?” Colt smooths his shirt down.  
“You’re going to knock her socks off,” I grin.  
He scoffs, “Hopefully, that’s not all.”  
“You’re terrible,” I make a face.  
“I better go.”  
“Alright.”  
“Love you,” Colt mutters distractedly, still fussing with his shirt.  
I tuck my hair back behind my ears, “Love you too.”  
He finally meets my eyes, then smirks, “Bye, baby. Goodbye, Jonah,” Hanging up before I can respond.  
I turn on my heels to find Jonah, standing with one hand on either side of the tiny bus hallway. He looks warm, and tired, and sweet, and I can’t help my smile.  
“What’s up with him?” Jonah’s voice is sleep-rough and deep, as he crosses the kitchenette to take a water from the fridge.  
“Third date tonight,” I lift one shoulder. Jonah, at every other instance Colt’s come up, has been completely uninterested. I don’t blame him, but I’m almost surprised he asked.  
He drains the bottle, his hip resting against the countertop, then asks, “Come with me?”  
“Of course,” I let him take my hand, and watch him snag one of the boys’ comforters off the couch. He leads me into the field surrounding this lookout, and drops my hand to set the blanket out on the ground.  
“I can’t even remember where we are,” Jonah sighs after a minute.  
“Arizona,” I remind him, although I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been told this morning.  
“I’m not sure what it’s like not to be tired anymore,” He admits.  
I breath out, slowly, “You’re just getting started.”  
“This is everything I wanted,” I can feel him turn towards me, but I keep my eyes on the clouds, “Everything I dreamed of. Getting to do this, getting to preform, make people happy, make some kind of difference,” He sounds awed, “but I’m so tired.”  
I hum, because I understand. Getting everything you’ve ever wanted doesn’t make your job less work.  
“And I’m jealous of Corbyn.”  
That admission doesn’t make as much sense. I roll over to look at him, “Why?”  
“He’s got Christina. She cares if the plane lands, if he’s staying hydrated, if he's happy. It’s been a long time since I knew I had that.”  
“I understand,” I tell him, because I do.  
Jonah studies me, “Do you regret it?”  
“Colt?”  
“Yeah.”  
I look back up at the sky, “Dating him or breaking up with him?” I wonder, but don’t pause, “No. I don’t regret either,” There’s no other explanation but the truth, “The possibility of pain is always the buy in for love, Jo. I love him, and I don't regret that. Colton was the best boyfriend I could have had, when I really needed that. When my mom died, he carried me through it. He carried me through a lot, actually,” I borrow Milo’s courage to rush those words out, because there’s never an easy way to tell someone the worst pain you’ve ever felt, even if I trust Jonah to be gentle.  
“I didn’t know,” His voice breaks, “I’m so sorry,” He takes my hand, and I let him.  
“It was a long time ago,” I remind myself, “She wasn’t my parent. Not really, my grandparents raised me. My mother was an addict, a mean drunk, and she died when I was nineteen,” The facts of my life laid bare in the grass beside the highway, to a boy I’m just beginning to learn, “I was terrified, when we finally broke up. Colton had been with me through everything.”  
“I don’t know how you can watch him move on,” He whispers.  
I smile, even though I know it’s sad, “I’ve always wanted him happy. Maybe this is the girl, maybe she isn’t, but I’m not that girl.”  
Jonah protests, “You just get along so well.”  
“I can’t see my life without him,” I agree, “But I couldn’t build a life with him. I want a big life, full of decisions he would never make and things he’d never try. We both deserve more that what we were willing to give each other, and I always knew that. I chose to risk good, for better.”

We’re quiet for a while, and Jonah thumbs over the back of my hand after the stars start appearing, “What was she like? Your mom, when she wasn’t drinking?”  
“Creative, smart, incredibly funny,” I smile, remembering her laugh, “Chaotic. She couldn’t sit for anything, and never stopped singing. I thought she was the most beautiful woman on Earth.”  
“How’d she meet your dad?”  
I start at the beginning, “She ran away from home, for the first time, when she was fifteen. She never felt like upper-middle-class suburbia suited her artist’s soul. My grandparents did everything they could to bring her back, but it was never enough.  
My grandfather says she loved musicians, almost as much as she loved music, which meant her type was men with potential and no money.”  
Jonah chuckles, softly.  
“So, my dad, nineteen, living in a van, with nothing but handmade records to sell and a horrifically abused Martin guitar to his name, was perfect to her.They were both using when she got pregnant with me. He was barely twenty, she was twenty-two, and for a while, they made it work.  
She got clean, he got a job waiting tables in a bar that let him sing on Saturday nights, but eventually, he left,”  
“How old were you?” Jonah asks.  
“Not even a year,” I crinkle my nose. This isn't a story that paints my father well, but that, especially, has always been hard to swallow.   
His next inhale sounds angry, but I know it’s on my behalf.

“It was okay, for a while. Then she lost control, a neighbor called the police because they hadn’t seen us in days. They found her, passed out, and me, filthy but alive. She’d taken thousands from my grandparents by then, more than I can fathom, more than they’ll ever tell me. She’d broken into houses in their neighborhood, stolen stupid things and gone joy-riding through the golf course more than once. So they’d written her off, had no idea where she was, or what she’d been doing, but then they got the call about me, and they came.  
They drove through the night, to get me, this grandchild they didn’t even know existed. Their daughter ruined their life, destroyed their reputation and broke their hearts, and they still didn’t hesitate to take me home.  
It affected my grandmother more than anything, she blames everything my mother ever did on herself, but she’s the one who told my dad when he asked to renegotiate their custody arrangement, after he meet Cheryl and got sober, that I deserved the best in life and she would bury him before she let him take that away from me.   
I loved my mother, and she never deserved it, but I’m still so lucky, Jonah. My mother was complicated, and beautiful, and an addict, and that could’ve been the story of my life, but it isn’t. I’m so lucky, because I have so many people that made sure it wasn’t.”

Jonah uses the hand not holding mine to brush my hair out of my face, “Of course not. You’re more than a single story could ever contain.” Hearing him say that makes me feels safe in a way I never have, that after listening to the miserable story of my family history, he still just sees me, makes me want to tell him everything else. 


	3. Something Different Chapters 9-11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Something Different,  
> Eli and Milo speak often Spanish to each other, but I'm posting this translated (so the entire work is in English), but anything italicized was originally Spanish. 
> 
> (Hope that makes sense) <3

**Not A Fight (During Chapter 9)**

  
Everything in the universe has a rhythm. Everything dances.  
When your body matches the song of someone else’s, it’s nothing short of miraculous.  
You are something bigger than yourself.

Dancing with Milo has always made me feel like that.  
Connected down to our core, even our atoms spin at the same time.

Including when he decides to be, as Jayden only-partially-affectionately called him for years, a gnat.  
Buzzing around me, too fast to put my finger on, and more annoying than anybody his size should be, “You have to talk to him.”  
“I don’t see why,” I let my palm slip down his arm.  
His hand catch my wrist, “Because, mi alma, that’s what you do,” He explains as if I’m a small child.  
“I don’t know what exactly you expect me to say to him, ‘Lo,” I flex, and he pulls, sending me up and over his body. I spin back towards him, mocking, “My legs would look fantastic around your waist, and I’ve never wanted to see anything more than what you’d look like with hickeys from the hinge of your jaw down to your hipbones?”  
Milo sputters for a second, as he digs his fingers into my ribs to lift me, “ _You promised to forget that._ ”  
I tense to let him position me in a one-handed hold arched above his head, then, “I was sitting next to you while you drunkly propositioned my friend-slash-childhood-dance-partner, whom you claimed to dislike, with the passion of a thousand suns.”  
He drops me.  
I turn,  
Once,  
Twice,  
Three times,  
Then right myself before my feet touch the floor.  
The landing is still reverberating in my bones as we surge across the floor. Milo smirks, “Well, I bet you understand that feeling now.”  
“I’m not pretending I don’t like Jonah,” I subtly shake my head, then lie, “ _I think most people don’t give a fuck about defining relationships this early. I don’t._ ”  
“Well, I do,” Milo declares, “I give a fuck, okay?” He’s shouting over the music, holding our position, waiting for the music to stop, “I give a lot of fucks, actually. I’m a feelings prostitute.”  
I blink at him, because that’s a lot to take in. It is, however, a pretty good general summary of his personality.  
Jayden yells in, “Your band is here!”  
I drop Milo’s hand, and whisper, “Sometimes, I hate you a little.”  
Milo just smiles in victory, pulling the door open to let them in, “Morning, boys.”  
“Alright, guys,” I address them, ignoring Milo completely, “Take a look at the stage,” I gesture to the taped pattern, “Milo’s just leaving.”  
“What were you fighting about?” Zach looks at me, half-innocent, half-smirk.  
Milo makes a similar face, pointing at me, “Well?”  
I wrap my hand around his wrist, pulling him closer to me, “That wasn’t a fight.”  
“Nope,” Milo’s eyes are still searching mine though.  
“ _You know it’s important to me too_ ,” I validate his argument, but, “ _It’s just complicated_.”  
“ _Later_ , Elijah,” He laughs at me, and because he’s such a part of me it makes me laugh back even while I push him out of the room.

 

 

**Just A Little Bit (During Chapter 11)**

There’s a too many empty cartons of Chinese food on my coffee table, because I wasn’t paying attention when Milo ordered our dinner, and Jayden’s favorite season of his favorite show about ridiculous people playing on my television, when Jayden turns to Jonah, “I’m slightly jealous,” He smirks, “Because you got to miss out on all their the wild years.” He tilts his head towards Milo and I, on the other side of the coffee table.  
I dimple into Milo’s shoulder, resigned to letting Jayden have his fun, and Milo protests, “We weren’t, like, crazy-crazy.”  
Jonah lifts an eyebrow, grinning, and I find myself explaining, “We went,” I hold my chopsticks a millimeter apart, “Just a little bit crazy, the first two years we lived in New York.”  
Jayden laughs, “I wouldn’t characterize it as ‘a little bit’. I thought you were going to end up arrested or dead. I could see the headlines,” He waves his hand through the air, “YouTube Dance Stars Tragically Crushed In Horrific Mosh Pit Disaster.”  
“We never did anything to justify that,” Milo pouts at Jay, “We never even got thrown out.”  
“Because everyone would just called me to come get you,” He rolls his eyes, then looks at Jonah, “They had this terrible plan of sneaking into every club and DJ booth in the city, and getting to the front of every concert they could.”  
“You can DJ?” Jonah grins at me.  
“We knew enough to get by,” I lift my shoulder, “That’s why I know how to use Eben’s system.”  
Jonah nods, considering me.  
“Plus, they were pretty enough topless to get away with anything,” Jayden winks.  
“Hey,” I poke him with my toes, “I never took off my leotard.”  
“That’s right,” He crosses his arms, “You just bathed in body glitter instead.”  
“We kept a prefect four-point-oh,” I point out.  
“Didn't miss a single class,” Milo agrees.  
Jayden puts his elbow on the table, “You called me once to beg me to pretend to be your parent because you were puking in the communal bathroom and didn’t want to go back to practice,”  
“Vodka,” Milo and I both shutter.  
“But I did go back,” Milo reminds him.  
“After I hung up on you,”  
“Which I still haven’t forgive you for.”  
“They were wild, and Colt was no help, seven states away and totally unconcerned,” Jayden looks at Jonah, “He’d just tell me,”  
“Quit mother-henning them,” Milo mimics Colt’s drawl with scary accuracy, “They’re fine.”  
“And we were,” I smile.  
Jonah’s eyes are laughing when I look at him, but he manages to nod seriously as Jayden tells him, “They aged me, like, ten years in two, man. Consider yourself lucky.”  
“What made you stop?” Jonah asks, genuinely curious.   
“My mother’s overdose.”  
His face goes pale, “Shit. I wasn’t thinking,”  
“It’s okay,” I interrupt him, “I like that you want to know.” It only feels like static electricity on my skin to talk about it, uneasy but not uncomfortable, and what I feel for Jonah is so much more powerful.  
“We’d never played with the hard stuff,” Milo shrugs, “But there was a thrill to being young, beautiful, and alone in New York City,” He wraps a piece of my hair around his finger.  
“It was all bright moments in dark rooms and too many bodies, attempting stunts to see what was eye-catching enough to record,”  
“If we could make a club crowd go still, we could get a million views,” Milo elaborates, “So we’d let people buy us drinks, and slam them to get back out on the floor faster,”  
“But we swore off everything the night she died,” I lean into Milo’s side.  
Jonah doesn’t miss a beat, telling me sincerely, “I really admire your resolve,” because he, somehow, knows exactly what to say.  
And I fall, just a little bit, harder for him.

 

 


	4. Hooked Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*
> 
> This contains MAJOR SPOILERS for Hooked,  
> if you're reading this series in order, please come back here after you've finished Zach's story.

**The Happiest (Hooked, Chapter Three, Eli's POV)**

 

It’s the smell of fried shrimp that gets to me.  
The savory spicy mix of crunchy topping on Milo’s favorite sushi rolls wafts from the brown paper bag still in his hand, and I barely make it to the kitchen before losing the contents of my stomach into the sink.

Milo slams the food into the freezer in his haste to make it disappear, then watches me with too-knowing eyes while I start to clean up. He lets me pull the bleach and Lysol out from underneath the counter before nudging me aside with his hip, directing me to the living room, “Go lay down.”

It only takes him ten minutes to scrub the kitchen down, because the only thing I’ve had today is coconut water, and he’s become a surprisingly efficient maid in the years since we were roommates. 

I stare at the floor, avoiding his face, while he kicks his sneakers off into the hallway then stands next to the sofa.  
Milo watches me, and I watch his socks, before he sighs and makes a space for himself beside me on the couch.  
Turned on our sides, we fit, but are forced to breathe each other’s air.  
I can’t count the number of times we’ve done this, on this couch or twenty more just like it, pressing our forehead together to talk about something one or both of us would rather not acknowledge.

“When were you planning on telling me?”  
I slide my hand under his shirt to warm my fingers, “I haven’t seen a doctor yet.”  
One of his dimples appears, “You know, there’s tests you can do at home.”  
“I know,” I turn my face into the cushion, hiding.  
“Ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away,” He runs his hand through my hair.  
“Her.”  
The pronoun leaves my mouth in a small quiet voice, but I have to tell him.  
Milo and I don’t share a consciousness, like Jayden sometimes claims we do, but we do share the kind of deep and permanent trust that means almost the same thing. I can always admit to Milo things I haven’t been able to say to myself, because he always understands, “I keep dreaming about her.”  
“Does she look like you?” His question is just as hushed.  
“She laughs like Jonah.”  
“Mi alma, mi alma, mi alma,” He mutters, bewildered and wonderful, engulfing me deeper in his arms, “You are allowed to want this. You can have something for yourself beyond Attitude.”  
“It’s not just Attitude,” I remind him, and myself.  
“This again?” He sighs.  
“I won’t ever be the same.”  
“Is anyone ever the same after they have a baby?” Milo attempts rhetoric, but we both know this is more than that.  
“I love what what I do, ‘Lo,” I meet his eyes.  
“I know you do,” He stares into mine, “But you know I’ve never approved of what you’re sacrificing for that. I worry about you.”  
I tap my knee into his, because perhaps I had to fight myself to stay on the top, and perhaps that meant what should’ve taken place inside my body every month didn’t, and perhaps my bones might be the kind of deficient that I get scolded for by every physician to ever examine my x-rays, and perhaps Milo’s been nagging me for years to take the pill and remedy it already, but he has a joint made of metal.  
“As long as I’ve known you, you’d never dreamed of babies with anyone’s laugh, or even mentioned having kids seriously, but,” His eyes are kind of wet, “The way you said you dream her. Elijah, I’m so happy for you.”  
“This will change everything,” I can feel the tears on my cheeks.  
He laughs, “Maybe you haven’t looked around lately, but everything has already changed.”  
“I haven’t told Jonah yet,” Because that would make her real.  
“Of course not,” He huffs, his face still dewy, “Are you really doubting that he’ll be the happiest?”  
“It wasn’t like we planned this,” I pinch him.  
Milo smirks, “That boy has wanted to have your babies since he met you, mi alma, don’t lie to me.”  
I pinch him again, which evolves into a wrestling match that continues until Jayden gets home in time to tell me if I don’t get in a cab in the next thirty seconds I’m going to miss my flight.

I should have know Milo wouldn't keep his mouth shut, but instead, when I let myself in our front door after my flight to find Jonah's band, their girlfriends, my little sister, and Jonah, holding a ridiculously large drugstore bag, I feel sick all over again. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For overthinkers_anonymous  
> For loving my characters like I do, and flooding my inbox


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